


Flame

by yet_intrepid



Category: Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Augustine - Freeform, Gen, Literary Reference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-11
Updated: 2013-01-11
Packaged: 2017-11-25 03:23:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/634597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yet_intrepid/pseuds/yet_intrepid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>March 1830. Combeferre prepares to go to the theatre; Enjolras explains both immediate and deeper reasons why he cannot join him. Uses a quote from St. Augustine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flame

_Total abstinence is easier than perfect moderation. –Augustine_

“I am going out,” Combeferre called to Enjolras, as he tied his cravat in front of the small mirror in his bedroom. “Jehan wanted someone to come with him to the theatre, and I’ve not been since _Hernani._ ”

Enjolras, at the table in the front room of their shared flat, gave a quiet sound of comprehension.

“Would you like to go?” Combeferre emerged from the bedroom. “Corneille’s _Horace_ is playing…you know the piece. When duty to country conflicts with brotherhood, how far is too far? Can one lose one’s humanity through forcefully enacting justice, and end by becoming unjust and even blindly cruel?”

Enjolras finally looked up from his work. “Yes, I believe I remember the one. The story behind David’s _Oath of the Horatii,_ and an intriguing piece. Do enjoy yourself; I hope it is well-represented.”

Combeferre sighed. “Then you are too busy?”

“I am starting on my end-of-the-year thesis for the law school.” He pushed aside some of his notes to reach for a glass of water. “I have failed enough papers by trusting too much to pure logic and thus being told they are ‘too radical’ and ‘outside the scope of law,’ but I will never force my way through this one if I chose a subject which I have no interest in. Where to find middle ground, I am still unsure. –But I don’t expect to spend much time on that today; there is still too much to be said about the king’s dissolution of Parliament.”

“So there is,” Combeferre agreed. “But you have produced more pamphlets since the eighteenth than I believed possible, in addition to mine, Jehan’s, Courfeyrac’s, and Feuilly’s on the topic…one evening will not determine whether or not the people understand the situation and rise against it.”

“You are right,” said Enjolras. He ran a hand through his hair. “You are right; however—”

“However?” Combeferre questioned gently.

Enjolras’ earnest blue eyes looked up at him. “You, Combeferre, know how to enter into the life of the world—the theatre, the inventions, everything you read on topics of which I have never heard—without losing one ounce of dedication to the Republic. I do not naturally have such a capacity. Total abstinence is easier than perfect moderation, and I have no energy to dedicate to finding that balance.”

Combeferre quietly put a hand on his shoulder. “Of course. I admire your focus, Enjolras, and always have.”

“And I admire you as well.” A smile came to the corners of his lips. “Your ability to find moderation and balance has consistently both impressed me, and done me good. –But the light of hope within me is a flame, Combeferre.” He began to look serious again, gazing off somewhere no one could follow. “It will burn, and never pause in its burning, until it has either lit a blaze or burned out.”

Moderation was a hard thing to teach fire, Combeferre thought, especially when that fire desperately needed to be shown to the world because the dawn was slow in coming. All one could really do was keep that flame just where it needed to be, isolated on its candle, touching only other candles to light them as well, until the time came.

He picked up his hat. “I wish you the best of luck with your pamphlet,” he said. “I’ll read it over for you when I get back from _Horace._ ”

Enjolras came out of his reverie. “I’ll be interested in your reflections on patriotism in conflict with fraternity,” he said, as Combeferre headed out of the flat.


End file.
